


Old Moon Fades

by glamaphonic



Series: Old Moon Fades [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Reality, Canon Character of Color, Dystopia, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Character of Color, Future Fic, Gen, POV Character of Color, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-11-19
Updated: 2009-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-03 11:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glamaphonic/pseuds/glamaphonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The world spins madly on...</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Moon Fades

Whaletail Island smelled like the fish that was its namesake and Haru didn’t like the way the dirt shifted beneath his feet. He tried to ignore both it and the ache in his bad knee as he hurried towards his destination.

The bar wasn't hard to find. There was not much on the small island but the black market. And that was mostly by the docks, where the goods came in and shipped right back out again. The only other worthy constructs were the smarmy little hovels in which people unfortunate enough to actually live in such a place resided. It was dark and smelled like spirits and sweat.

When Haru walked up to the proprietor and said who he was looking for, the man stared at him appraisingly before shrugging his shoulders, having apparently decided either that Haru could handle what he’d requested or it was no skin off his nose if Haru couldn’t. The man led him to the back of the main room, where a curtained-off entryway revealed a short hall and a sliding screen. The proprietor disappeared back to the main room after holding the curtain open for Haru, leaving him to make the rest of the trip himself.

The back room boasted guttering candlelight and the smell of clean smoke. Its sparse furnishings consisted only of a low table and a futon in the corner with a trunk at its foot. There were odd foreign artifacts (a hanging, a dragon-shaped candelabra, a tea set) arranged in another corner, more like a makeshift altar than decorations. Haru paused and it felt almost as though he was intruding on some private sanctuary. Of course, he probably was considering the way that the room’s occupants were looking at him.

The erstwhile Prince of the Fire Nation’s stare had only become colder over the years. Hardship and the crush of real adulthood had aged him. He was still far too young for the streaks of grey in his shaggy mane, and his scars looked livid in the candlelight. The brutality of the original remained unfaded, but it was the other, the long thin line running diagonally across Zuko’s face, just missing his good eye and continuing down to his chin, that drew Haru’s eye more. Perhaps because he had seen that one happen.

If the years made the cracks in Zuko’s spirit even more outwardly visible then they had the opposite effect on his wife. Haru remembered the perfect mask of Mai’s face well, and it was largely unchanged except, perhaps, for the fact that her features seemed sharper somehow. Her gaze was nothing but steel as her eyes shifted to him, partially obscured by the curtain of her overlong fringe. She was like an animal coiled, ready to strike.

If Zuko had been weathered, then Mai had been tempered.

“What do you want?” Zuko asked, gruff and curt. Not everything changed.

“I think you already know,” Haru responded. “News gets here too. And if not here, then out there.” He nodded his head in the general direction of the docks, of the sea. Zuko’s ship had been Haru’s first stop and how he’d been directed to the bar.

“And the fact that we’re still here didn’t indicate anything to you?” Mai asked. She rose from where she’d been kneeling beside Zuko at the table, running a hand across his shoulders, and slid to the futon, reclined as though it was a divan in an opulent palace.

"We thought it meant that you clearly needed some convincing."

"So they sent you?" The laughter in Zuko's voice was unkind.

"We all have to do our part."

"Same old song," Zuko said dismissively.

"Look, I know that-"

"You don't know." Zuko wasn't quite yelling. "You have no idea." Over on the futon, Mai shifted slightly, her body tensed. She no longer looked at Haru, but her hands disappeared into her sleeves, which was much more frightening.

"So you're just going to let the world fall apart around you and not try to do anything to stop it?"

Zuko didn’t respond.

"The Avatar needs your help," Haru tried at last, vocalizing what they refused to outwardly acknowledge.

"Yeah. That worked out great for me last time."

Haru exhaled, shoulders slumped.

"You can go," Zuko said as he rose and turned towards Mai.

Haru hesitated, opened his mouth as if to say something more, but was stopped short when Mai raised her head to look at him again.

"He said go." The implication that it was his only warning came through loud and clear.

Haru turned without a word and slid the door closed behind him. When he returned to the main room of the bar the man who'd shown him to Zuko and Mai grinned at him.

"Went well, eh?" he asked.

Haru sighed as he sat down at the bar. "Not at all."

"She didn't kill you," the man responded as he poured Haru a rather pungent drink. "Went better than most."

Haru shrugged and downed his glass.

*

"Do you need to talk about it?" she asked, soft lips under his eye. She pulled back, their noses just shy of touching. He flexed the hand that had slipped under her robe and idly traced his thumb around her navel.

“No,” he responded and kissed her affectionately on the mouth.

Mai stared into his eyes, her own darkening as his fingers drifted lower on her abdomen. He lifted his hand, undoing the loose tie at her waist and, after a pause, she shimmied out of the robe entirely. Zuko’s robe was long since discarded, but Mai reached for his face first. She scratched lightly at his beard, and then sank her fingers into his hair.

"You're lying," she announced.

Zuko closed his hands around her wrists and rearranged her arms around his neck instead. He leaned forward as she reclined and their bodies pressed against each other. He kissed her again, open-mouthed and ardent.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, and closed one hand on her thigh. “This matters.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as he slid his hand higher until he could tease her with his fingertips. He felt her tense in anticipation. Years of practice and he knew just where to touch her and how. She sighed and bit her bottom lip. Zuko pressed down with his thumb just so and she squirmed. What normally followed was nail marks on his forearms, but when she grabbed at him, her hands found his wrist instead. She tugged at it, moving his fingers out of range, and Zuko looked at her inquisitively.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said, voice remarkably calm relative to the deep pink flush of her skin and the heaving of her chest as she breathed.

“I’m glad you agree,” he responded, taking the moment to lean down and kiss the tip of one breast, tongue darting out just so as he moved away.

“But,” she continued and one of her hands, always so quick, wrapped around his length. She squeezed lightly and Zuko’s breath caught. “Don’t think that you can distract me that easily.”

“Never,” he promised. It came out ragged and strained. Mai looked for a moment as though she would say something else, but Zuko kissed her hungrily. It was either unimportant or she just couldn’t manage with his tongue in her mouth, and Zuko was unconcerned either way. They were at the junction where words were entirely beside the point. Which was good because Zuko didn’t want to have to think or to remember. He might not be able distract Mai, but he had every confidence in his ability to distract himself. He fairly ached with desire for her, and the past suddenly wading around in their wake only gave him more incentive to lose himself.

Mai was soft and warm and wonderfully familiar. He didn’t have to think as he pushed into her, as he smoothed the dark strands of her hair away from her face so that he could see her clearly. There was only instinct and emotion as she moved against him and he moved inside of her. Her shuddering gasps and heavy lashes and hands tracing paths along his skin, her whimper-moan as she clenched tight around him- She was beautiful. She was his, and it didn’t matter what else he’d lost as long as he had, was never without, her. He broke with her name on his lips, as always.

For a few moments, there was nothing else. Nothing else besides strains of euphoria and the sound of their heavy breathing. Then, as if in recompense for his attempt to ignore it, before the sheen of sweat had even dried on their skin, the rest of the world returned to him. Every pain of the last half dozen years, the ever-present persistent sorrow, usually like a dull hum in the back of the mind, came blaring to the foreground. Even lying there, bodies casually tangled together, something in his bearing gave him away; that, or Mai was close enough to feel him tense up minutely.

“Zuko?” The concern in her voice was evident. She lifted her head from where it had been resting against his shoulder in an attempt to catch his eye. He let her, but only for a moment before he looked away. Just like that, it was obvious. She bowed her head, knowing.

Zuko sat up, staring out at the empty room for long, silent moments. Behind him, Mai shuffled around before her hand came to rest on his shoulder. He reached up and entwined his fingers with hers.

“We can go, she said, softly, almost indulgently.

Zuko took a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly. “You don’t want to.”

“There are very few things left in this world that I do want,” she said flatly. “Watching you torture yourself most certainly is not among them.”

“I’m not sure if I really want to go,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I still believe that- I don’t know…” He trailed off, feeling acutely inarticulate and helpless.

“We’ve lost a lot of family,” Mai said. Her voice was controlled, but Zuko recognized it as too much so. The deceptively simple declaration hung in the air, settling in, before she continued. “We can listen to him and then make a decision.”

Zuko nodded.

*

Haru was trying (and failing) to find a captain that would allow him to actually _reserve_ a berth for a few days hence when Mai and Zuko found him.

"You know what, don't worry about it," he said the captain. If they'd come to find him this would be resolved soon, one way or another.

The walk back to their boat was short and silent. They both looked very different, out in the light of day. Zuko's hair was pulled back, a dark tail at the nape of his neck, his face and the stories carved into it unobstructed. Nothing but the wind kept Mai's fringe out of her eyes, and the long fall of hair down her back was an even sharper contrast to the painstakingly complex coif of yesteryear when she was not at repose in guttering candlelight.

As they proceeded up the gangplank, a member of the small and stolid crew approached Mai. She gave the man instructions in a voice too quiet for Haru to hear, but he was not offered the chance to be curious. Zuko continued on towards the bridge and Haru, without other direction, elected to follow him.

The room was empty, and Zuko briefly set one hand on the navigation table, almost affectionately, before continuing on towards the cluster of smooth metal levers and complex widgets that made up the ship's controls. He stared out of the porthole, his back to Haru.

"I'm glad you reconsidered," Haru said, taking the opening.

"What does he want?" was Zuko's only response.

"You want the long version or the short version?"

"I want the version that'll make me care."

Haru paused to look over his shoulder at the hatch. It was still open as Zuko had given no indication to close it, but the corridor was clear. A few quick steps took Haru to Zuko's side and found himself imminently thankful that Mai was not joining them for this discussion.

In Haru's estimation, even before, Mai had always been a woman driven largely by personal interest. Youthful myopia had worn away, certainly, but then, at the most inopportune of times, a decidedly adult self-interest had taken its place. It wasn't that Haru blamed her. She had been a crucial and helpful ally for very nearly as long as Zuko had. And he was certain that where Zuko went, she would follow. However, he was much less certain of his ability to convince Zuko if she was present and decided to offer resistance as she had in their backroom at the bar.

"I think you already care," Haru said. Zuko shot him an unimpressed glare and Haru continued. "The colonies have finally agreed to a cease fire."

Zuko snorted, incredulous. "With whom?"

"Omashu, Ba Sing Se, and the entire Gaoling province. Everyone who offered, more or less. But that...is currently the limit of their cooperation." Haru measured his words carefully, aware that it might not matter a great deal, but it _would_ matter. "They've agreed to the cessation of hostilities unless directly provoked, but they haven't been receptive to any further attempts at peacebrokering."

"You mean they refuse to lie down like dogs for the Regent Council," Zuko spat. Haru detected a distinct rise in temperature of the air in the room and his mouth felt dry.

"I mean that they won't agree to construct open trade routes, fall back from their ongoing skirmishes with the other city-states, or vacate territories that they've taken." Haru kept his voice calm. "And, no. Since you mention it, they won't acknowledge the sovereignty of the homeland."

"The Regent Council is not the sovereign of the Fire Nation." Zuko's tone held bitter amusement. "Last time I checked, there were about half a dozen noble warlords fighting for that position."

"Which is why," Haru continued, relentless, "the Council doesn't have time to woo the colonies. And the warlords are taking advantage of this."

Zuko glanced at Haru sharply before returning his gaze to the porthole. "You're worried that they're going throw their hats in with one of the traditionalists. And that he's going to start building the empire again."

"Don't you think we should be?"

"What exactly are you are you asking me to do?" It was the first time Zuko had actually sounded suspicious.

"He's not asking you the join the council again," Haru quickly assured him, wary of the dangerous ground upon which he was treading.

"I said what are you asking, not what aren't you asking."

"We need you there," Haru admitted, and it really was almost as simple as that. "To support everyone's best interests, to talk to their leadership. They need to understand that there are other options."

"You don't want me to join the Council, but you want me to be a politician." His tone was distant.

"When you...departed, it left a hole that hasn't been filled yet. You still have clout. Both of you. You still have a following. They didn't stop supporting you just because-"

"Because we abandoned them?" Zuko finished.

"A lot of people don't see it that way."

"But I do." And just like that, Haru saw it. In the set of Zuko's shoulders and the look in his eyes. He was losing him, completely and irrevocably. Haru properly gauged the resentment, the anger, weighed it against the clear desire to do what was right that he hoped still burned in Zuko's chest. But he hadn't counted on the intensity of the guilt or the fear of failure that it drove. Probably because that particular fear was one that the Zuko Haru had known had never possessed.

Haru swallowed something bitter in the back of his throat. This was exactly what he didn't want to have to do, but it was too important, too crucial, to be able to afford the weak-hearted.

"There's something else. The biggest city-state that the colonies won't truce with is Shi Gong. They've been the aggressors time and again and they won't repeal any of the ridiculous demands in their proposed treaties. It would essentially make the colonies closest to them their annexes. And they support the other city-states asking for similar. The steward of Shi Gong is a man named Quan Ji. He wasn't always based there, though. He was once one of the leaders of Omashu's resistance back during the war."

Zuko shot him an impatient look.

Haru continued apace. "Once the city was retaken, he headed a small splinter group that promoted the absorption of the colonies. It grew over time, branched out.” He took a breath.

“Six years ago, under his direct command, it was one of his factions that led the attack on the Fire Nation capital."

Zuko spun fully to look at Haru, his face a mask of disbelief, distress, and grief that Haru could barely stand to look at, but when a voice broke the oppressive silence, it wasn't Zuko's.

"You must be so desperate," said Mai. Haru turned around at the sound of her voice. He didn't know how long she'd been in the room as he neither heard her come in or any noise to indicate her presence until the moment she spoke. She walked toward them slowly and deliberately, her voice shaking with the same emotions that Haru saw on Zuko's face, fury in her eyes.

"Mai," Zuko said softly.

Mai gave no indication that she heard, focused entirely on Haru.

"You really have think that there's no chance without us," she said, voice lowering dangerously, "if you would risk your life like this."

"Mai," Zuko repeated.

She continued to ignore him as she came to a stop right in front of Haru, eyes boring into his.

"Did you really just use information on the man who killed my son as bait to entice us to be your Avatar's lapdogs again?"

"It's not...bait. He-" Haru began, aware that he sounded at least partially as though he was trying to convince himself.

"Shut up," Zuko cut him off authoritatively. Haru obeyed, not least because he wasn't entirely sure what to say. Mai's presence threw him off. He should have closed the door. At least then he would have been aware of her, he thought, before immediately wondering if that really would have made a difference.

Mai took one step back from Haru before Zuko reached out and grabbed her, hands on her arms, and pulled her to him. Zuko cupped the side of her face with his hand as gently as Haru had ever seen him do anything. She leaned into his touch, and Haru quickly turned away. He put some distance between them just so that the sound of his footsteps on the metal floor could obscure the brief whispered words being exchanged. He counted ten heartbeats, then ten more before facing them again.

Their clinch was ended. Mai leaned against the navigation table, arms crossed and eyes downcast. Zuko was staring at Haru, implacable.

"Where is he now?" Zuko asked.

Haru hesitated, unsure.

"Aang," Zuko clarified and his voice did something strange on the name. "Where is he now?"

"Ba Sing Se."

"We're setting sail immediately. You can bunk with the crew."

With that, Zuko turned on his heel and marched out of the room. Haru stood stock still, wishing that he felt more pleased with himself for completing his mission and less ashamed about the method that he used to do so.

Mai raised her head and stared at him for a long moment. Haru forced himself not to look away.

"We just found out," he said by way of explanation. "He really is- It's- I wouldn't-" He almost wished that she'd just stab him. It might be less torturous. "It's not a trick," he finally managed.

"If I thought that it was you'd be dead already."

She said nothing else and made no move to leave. So Haru did instead, searching for someone to show him where he could rest.


End file.
